


Touch

by ohnomyheart



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Minor Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung, Nakamoto Yuta is Whipped, Pining, That's it, it's pretty much just fluff, that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 04:43:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15502560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohnomyheart/pseuds/ohnomyheart
Summary: At first, Sicheng was sure that Yuta did it all for the cameras. The constant touches, the kisses, the way that somehow, no matter what they were doing or who was with them, Yuta managed to affix himself to Sicheng.





	Touch

At first, Sicheng was sure that Yuta did it all for the cameras. The constant touches, the kisses, the way that somehow, no matter what they were doing or who was with them, Yuta managed to affix himself to Sicheng.

And for a while, it happened only on camera. Sure, Yuta still orbited around Sicheng in the dorm, joked and teased and smiled that big pretty smile at the younger boy, but his hands always seemed to stop just a little short. 

Even Sicheng, who knew for a fact he was oftentimes completely oblivious, noticed a few aborted attempts, where Yuta would reach out, freeze, and recoil, as if hit by some sort of forcefield.

It just became a fact of life for Sicheng. When the lenses went dark and the staff went home, he lived inside his own bubble of personal space.

Honestly, though, as a non-touchy person by nature, he couldn’t have cared less.

But then as days dragged into weeks, and weeks into months, Sicheng found himself being influenced, in the way he leaned closer to whisper into Yuta’s ears, in the way throwing an arm around Yuta’s shoulders no longer gave him any pause, in the way he tackled Yuta over whenever he felt like Yuta deserved it.

It surprised Sicheng, how unconsciously he began to return the closeness.

More surprising though, was when he realized that, what he had once considered solely fanservice, an act, was slowly worming its way into his day-to-day life.

Randomly, through practice, while they ate dinner, or even as they lazed around during their much needed downtime, Sicheng would find Yuta’s hand on his knee, his head on his shoulder, a hand ruffling his hair.

It felt different though, these off-camera touches. And though Sicheng would never describe Yuta as shy, the little points of contact sure felt that way, a little flustered, hesitant.

Sometimes he would catch Yuta’s eyes during these moments, and though Yuta would smile as confidently as ever, the bold, borderline arrogant light that filled his eyes whenever he decided to hip thrust on stage or tease their nctzens would filter into something softer, nervous even, when he looked back at Sicheng.

“He’s whipped,” Jaehyun says plainly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, taking a bite out of a peach. He grins as he turns to Sicheng. “Come on Winwinnie, you have to have noticed by now. I even bet Doyoung-hyung five dollars that he would kiss you by the end of the week.”

Sicheng just rolls his eyes. “You have something in your teeth.”

“Whipped, I tell you,” he laughs, but nonetheless covers his mouth with his hand as he does so. 

Sicheng leaves Jaehyun giggling in the kitchen out of mock disgust, but he would be lying if his face didn’t feel a little warm, his stomach a little fluttery. 

Yuta has always been handsome, bright and loud and shining, but never has Sicheng felt quite like this thinking of him. 

Later, when he tries to fall asleep, he can’t get Yuta’s face out of his mind, can’t stop recounting all those little touches and wondering if there had been something more to them.

The next night, Saturday, Sicheng comes out of the shower, changes into pajamas, and promptly collapses into bed, exhausted from a long day of practice. 

He had even stayed behind for an extra hour, trying to nail down a movement that his body just flat-out refused to do. Even now, lying down, he gives a half-hearted go at it, but just ends up flailing around for a few seconds.

He gets about five minutes of peace and quiet before Yuta barges into their room yelling, “Winko! Sichengie!”

Holding his laptop, and dressed in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, Yuta looks warm and inviting, comfortable.

Sicheng briefly considers how nice a hug from Yuta would feel right now, before promptly banishing that thought into the void. This wasn't him. He was supposed to be dreading the idea of arms wrapped around him, not daydreaming about it.

Masking his internal turmoil, he manages to sit up, back against the wall, and give a little wave as his greeting.

Yuta bounds over to sit on his bed and plops down next to him, some anime, fantasy from the looks of it, already queued up on the screen.

Sicheng narrows his eyes accusingly at Yuta.

“What?” Yuta whines, defensive. “I already promised, this one’s normal. You know, fighting bad guys and stuff.” He mimes a few punches in the air and then tries for an explosion noise.

Sicheng huffs, giving in because he was a good friend, and certainly not because what Yuta just did was unbearably cute. He keeps the glare up though, side-eying Yuta (who grins at Sicheng innocently), because he still hasn’t entirely forgiven Yuta for permanently scarring him.

“Okay, okay,” Sicheng sighs, “but if I see another animated tentacle, I am never talking to you again.”

“Never?” Yuta looks at him with those big puppy dog eyes, pouting.

And as adorable as it is, and as much as Sicheng doubts he’ll be able to live up to that threat, he also can’t look at an octopus in the same way ever again. “Never.”

“Fine, be that way.” Yuta turns away dramatically, sulking for all of fifteen seconds, before turning back around with that bright smile of his. 

Sicheng’s heart skips a beat.

“Don’t worry Winko, I’m like ninety-nine percent sure there’s no tentacles in this one.” And with that, he throws an arm around Sicheng’s shoulder nonchalantly and winks.

He almost gets away with the whole nonchalant act.

Almost.

Because there was that little bit of hesitation again, that little moment where Sicheng swears he could feel a weird charge in the air. He glances at the older boy, looking for signs that he felt it as well, but Yuta won’t quite meet his eyes, and quickly, almost panickedly, taps the play button on his laptop.

The room fills with the upbeat opening music and immediately, whatever was holding Yuta captive dissipates as he starts bobbing his head to the beat, occasionally singing along, screechy and comically off-key.

The screen fades to black and opens back up into a fight scene, colorful, intense, and undeniably awesome.

Sicheng finds himself falling head-first into the story, and is already more attached to the protagonists than he wants to admit. During the episode’s climax, he’s holding his breath and pulling himself closer to Yuta in excitement. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registers the fact that he can feel Yuta tense up, but the rest of him is more worried about if the main character is going to make it out alive then his friend being weird next to him.

It’s only when the action eases into a romantic side-plot, a lull, does Sicheng pull his eyes away from the screen. Usually Yuta would’ve been begging him to read the female lead’s sappy lines by now, face lighting up far too much when Sicheng grumpily gives in. 

The silence is strange, and when Sicheng finally does glance at Yuta, he realizes Yuta isn’t watching at all.

His eyes instead roam up and down Sicheng’s form, tracing his features, but always returning to his lips.

Yuta doesn’t even seem to notice that Sicheng staring.

A sudden heat flashes through Sicheng’s system, blush like fire on his face. Then his eyes catch on Yuta’s open hand, resting on his thigh.

Sicheng’s not sure what overcomes him, but before he can think twice, he takes it in his own, warmth seeping into his palm.

Yuta startles at the touch, gaze darting up to meet Sicheng’s, nervous light just behind his irises. He summons that confident smile a moment too late, and this time Sicheng can tell straight away that it’s merely a front.

And suddenly, Sicheng needs to know the truth. He laces their fingers together, slowly, deliberately, and looks into Yuta’s eyes.

He needs to know.

“Sichengie?” the older says, voice just the slightest bit strained. “What’s up?”

“Yuta-hyung, can I ask you a question?” Sicheng can feel Yuta’s heartbeat speeding up from where their hands are linked together, thump-thump-thumping away beneath the skin. His own pulse begins to skyrocket, as if to sync up, to beat as one. Sicheng’s nerves suddenly feel exposed, the space between them sparking like live wires.

“You just did,” is Yuta’s only response. It’s supposed to be a joke, but the way he says it, quiet, out of breath, exhale catching in his throat, signals something else entirely. 

An unspoken answer to the question Sicheng hasn’t even asked yet.

“Do you like me?”

Silence.

A beat, then two, where Sicheng feels the blood pounding behind his eyes, and he’s aware, too aware, of every one of their movements, focused on Yuta as if he’ll never have this chance again. 

He takes the line of Yuta’s nose, his jaw, the curve of his lips, parted slightly, shining, anticipating, and burns it, burns it straight into his memory, before bringing his gaze back up to meet the other’s eyes.

Neither looks away. Magnetic.

Somewhere in the background a character yells in Japanese, but it sounds far, far away.

Yuta swallows thickly.

“I do. I like you a lot, Sicheng.”

And then it’s Yuta’s turn to stare him down, his thumb tracing slow, intoxicating circles on the back of Sicheng’s hand. It’s hard to breathe.

_He’s been waiting for this,_ Sicheng thinks hazily, drunk with how good Yuta’s touch feels against his skin. 

_How long has he been waiting for this?_

“Do you, Sicheng? Do you like me too?” Yuta’s head tilts closer to Sicheng’s with the question, voice low, eyelashes casting shadows on his cheek.

Sicheng’s suddenly thrown into a hundred memories and images, all of them centered around Yuta, and Yuta alone. Almost everything they’ve ever done together is suddenly flashing through his eyes, spinning, spiraling uncontrollably through his mind.

The random kisses, hugs, compliments, actions that Sicheng had never read into suddenly coalesce into something much bigger, a tidal wave crashing down on his head. 

A realization. An epiphany.

Then his vision focuses into a sudden clarity, and he sees Yuta, watching him, expectant, electric, growing more and more anxious the longer Sicheng says silent.

Sicheng breaks their interlocked hands.

“Ah.” Yuta spits out the syllable mechanically, eyes dulling. “I guess-”

But before Yuta can finish, Sicheng grabs onto the collar of his t-shirt, soft cotton running beneath his fingers, and pulls the older in front of him, onto him.

Yuta looks bewildered. “Sicheng.”

They’re so close that Sicheng can see every detail, every single part that makes Yuta so stunning. An inch, maybe two at best between them. Yuta smells unfairly good, of the soap he always uses and clean laundry.

“Sicheng-” Yuta breathes again, into the tiny space between him.

Sicheng reaches a hand up to press against the soft skin at the nape of Yuta’s neck, and pushes the boy towards him, eyes fluttering closed. The laptop clatters gently to the floor behind them, forgotten.

Sicheng’s lips find themselves against Yuta’s, soft and warm, gentle and sweet, pressure constant as they move in tandem. He swears Yuta gives like putty beneath his touch, but when Yuta’s hand comes up to card through his hair, Sicheng can’t help but do the same, every fuse in his brain blowing.

Sicheng withdraws slightly, more than a little pleased when Yuta chases him, the kiss, the touch he’s wanted for so long.

And when Sicheng pulls away for real, Yuta doesn’t even attempt to hide the whine that escapes from his mouth.

Despite the fact his insides feel like they’re melting, Sicheng manages to get the words out. “I like you too, Yuta.”

Yuta’s face splits into smirk, and then pulls fully into that bright smile, unable to hide his happiness. “It’s Yuta-hyung,” he chides. His eyes dip back to Sicheng’s lips, message clear, wanting more. “And I think I’ve figured that out.”

Sicheng grins and reconnects them.

It’s deeper than the first kiss, rougher, as Yuta presses forwards insistently, one hand winding its way up back up to Sicheng’s hair, the other slipping under the hem of his shirt to splay across his back, leaving a path of sensation against Sicheng’s skin.

Yuta smiles slyly into the kiss when he feels Sicheng shudder at the motion.

Two can play at that game.

Sicheng takes the swell of Yuta’s bottom lip in between his teeth, and relishes in the little noise that he gets out of him. Tongue dipping along the seam of Yuta’s lips, he opens him up slowly, hands wrapping around the older’s waist and pulling him closer. Yuta gives in immediately, sighing contentedly, like he’s lost in a dream he thought would never come true.

And Sicheng? 

Sicheng knows he will never get enough of this. He wants to live in this moment forever, this warmth, this feeling.

When they finally break for good, both are out of breath. Yuta’s looking at him, kiss-reddened lips pulled into that pretty smile, eyes half-lidded and dazed, pupils blown so wide Sicheng feels like he’s looking into pools of the night sky.

“Can we do that again sometime? Maybe?” Sicheng asks, suddenly shy, mind a mess. All he can think about is Yuta, Yuta, Yuta. He brings a finger to his still-tingling lips. 

Yuta laughs, bright and loud and so full of joy that Sicheng can’t help but smile along. He wraps Sicheng into the best hug he’s ever received, and it’s ten times better than anything Sicheng could’ve imagined. 

“Anytime, Winko. Anytime,” Yuta giggles into his ear.

They fall asleep like that, arms and legs and hearts tangled together.

When Sicheng wakes up to sunlight filtering in through his window, his first thought is how Jaehyun would be happy to know he was about to be five dollars richer.

Yuta draws him closer to his chest, buries his face in his hair, smiling even in his sleep. 

Sicheng lets himself drift off again, happy.

-

_(Jaehyun cheers as Doyoung, still grumbling, throws a five dollar bill his way._

_“Seriously, Yuta? You’ve been pining over Winwinnie for, like, how long? And now you’re telling me you couldn’t have waited a couple more days?” Doyoung scoffs as he watches Jaehyun shimmy off into the living room._

_Yuta grins, and then brings his shoulders up into a shrug. He’s waited long enough._

_“Unbelievable,” Doyoung says, shaking his head, but he’s smiling too, first at Yuta, then a little wistfully at Jaehyun’s receding figure._

_It’s a pretty good day for everyone.)_

**Author's Note:**

> Please understand the separation between fiction and real life; I write only with the intent of borrowing faces and situations. Let's always respect the real idols involved :)
> 
> I hope this was enjoyable!


End file.
